There had been better times in South Dakota. The couple could never agree on how to properly raise their daughter. The only thing they did agree on was that the father should move far away, before the girl was even born. Of course, he did have visitation rights, but they came with a stipulation.

He had to remain forever unseen. In fact, so long as the father kept out of sight, once the girl was a little older, the mother let the girl move close to where he lived. Still, the couple disagreed—vehemently at times—over the care and maintenance of their daughter.

So the father again flew to South Dakota, to discuss the matter with his wife.

"Fiou I [oiueP] dpa[…] * Jo," he said upon seeing her. "erOQir Ooek'poi aOIde?"

She wasn't surprised at her husband having arrived unannounced, even though they hadn't spoken in years. "--Idio [Idio - PoPire p] + Gi p[o]," she replied. "Fpe pkp doAp-Aw yrp ~ [s] gJ=wO Eve."

Oh. I'm sorry. Let's turn on the translator.

"Hello, Honey," he said upon seeing her. "How have you been?"

She wasn't surprised at her husband having arrived unannounced, even though they hadn't spoken in years. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," she replied. "I take it you're having trouble with Eve."

"It's not as easy as I thought it would be."

"Ach!" the wife said before spitting on the ground. "If you read the manual, you'd find it easier."

The couple couldn't even agree on whether or not they should use the human maintenance manual. "I don't need the High Order of Ich`^i'Kus telling me how to raise my daughter!"

Despite wanting to slap her idiot husband in his so-called face, the wife spoke very calmly. "Why don't you stay here a spell? Let the poor girl be. In two or three Qyw^ZaulS—50 to 75 Earth years—her husband will be dead, and we can harvest her then. You've scarcely waited even one Qyw^Zaul, much less two or three."

The husband stared at his feet. Patience wasn't one of his virtues. "I just thought…" he began, before realizing he was wrong."I know," was all he said after that.

The wife patted her husband on the back. "Yes. I know you do." She gave him a rare smile. "You can stay in the field house out back, but first come inside with me. I'll scorch a lovely bucket of gravel and rotten pumpkin guts for you."

This made the husband happy. The one thing he missed most of all while living under Mt. Parnassus was eating rotten pumpkins. "Will you put in the vines?" he asked. "And some oak roots, too? Please?"

"Of course. And the heads of freshly dead vampire bats." She looked at him with concern. "You did bring some bats with you? Yes?"

"You bet! I know how much you like them!"

"But let me harvest the roots," the wife said, heading out toward the yard. "The last time you got them, you made a terrible mess."

The husband waited on the steps of the farmhouse. "I was hungry! It's a long flight from Greece to here."

"Mm-hmm. Yes. But anyway—could you do me a favor while I scorch something for us to eat?"

"Sure!"

The wife motioned with her eyes at her husband's flying saucer. "Could you park that underground in the shed? The neighbors will talk if they see it."

Adam and Eve made sure Autumn agreed on a cover story before going into the hospital. It took some calm explaining.

"Autumn?" her mother asked, pleading abjectly. "Can you see how this would look if we told people what really happened?"

Despite the pain she was in, Autumn remained stoic. She had kept her head turned and her eyes on her sister the entire time it took for Adam to drive to the hospital, sitting crooked in the front seat alongside him.

"Autumn. Please," Adam said, also apologizing. "Answer your mother."

Autumn nodded her head.

"We got Tellus back," Eve said, gently smiling. "That's what matters most."

The eight-year-old girl understood. Though she was mostly normal, like her father, she also knew Tellus and her mother were different, in a kind of unique and unusual way.

Eve continued apologizing. "I'm very sorry for what I did. Your father is sorry too. My dad would never have given Tellus back to us without having done what we did. He won't listen to anything we say."

These were more of the sort of stories Autumn had heard before. "I know. That's why he's invisible."

"That's right, Koukla. And he only understands violence."

Autumn never stopped staring at her sister, even when her father spoke.

"He's dangerous," Adam said, stroking Autumn's hair. "He kept Tellus away from us, in that cave for over a year."

Autumn agreed, again nodding her head. Adam smiled kindly, wiping the last tear of joy from his eye. He exited the car and opened the door on the side where Autumn sat. Still, she refused to face forward, staring at her sister in the back seat.

Autumn's eyes darted to her mother. "Did you really…?" Autumn gulped. "You know. With the pitchfork?"

Eve nodded, much like her daughter had been doing. "Yes. I really did. I stabbed my father with it, and held him down until he gave Tellus back."

Autumn's eyes grew wide as saucers, in fear and honor and reverence, as Adam quietly picked her up. Still, she turned and twisted to look towards the back seat, first at her sister again, then at her mother.

"Did you kill him?" Autumn asked plainly.

Eve scrunched up her face. "I don't think he dies like you and me. Like, he fixes himself, or maybe something."

Autumn twitched her injured leg, which had bloodied up the seat as she sat backwards."Do you think, maybe… you know. If we asked, do you think he'd he fix me?"

Adam kindly interrupted, worried about his daughter's heavy bleeding. "Let's first get you fixed at the hospital."

He held her with great care. Still, she winced in pain for a moment, showing how bad her leg hurt.

"Will Mommy be okay while we're gone?" Autumn asked as her father carried her to the hospital.

"What do you mean, Sweetpea?"

"With Tellus. Will they be okay?"

"Mommy will take care of Tellus. She's a good mother to us."

Autumn scrunched up her face much like her mother might, thinking hard for a bit. "I don't mind much. What she did."

Adam pursed his lips. "What about me? Are you mad at me for what I did?"

Without hesitation, Autumn hugged her father, clinging to his neck for all she was worth.

"We got Tellus back," she said soft and quiet, her face buried in her father's shoulder. He felt the warmth of her tears wet his neck. "I'm okay."

Adam kissed Autumn's head as fresh tears of his own clouded his eyes. "Yes we did, Sweetpea. We did it, all together. We got her back because of you."

"I know."

"You're the big hero in this story. I'm very proud of you. You're brave, and now, thanks to you, Tellus is with us again."

Adam spoke to a nurse next. She took one look at Autumn's leg, and left quickly to find a doctor. A second nurse led Adam to a bed.

"Let's move again," Autumn said, still hugging her father as he carried her down the hall. "Can we? With Mom and Tellus now?"

"Sure. We'll talk about it with Mom when we're done."

"I don't want to live here anymore."

Adam gave Autumn a final kiss before placing her on the bed. "We'll see what we can do, 'Pea. We will see."

Back in South Dakota, the wife asked, almost knowingly, "aH[Pkoi – eoOuO] * [o…S]'doYSp? (What's with the pitchfork you have?)"

Her husband was embarrassed. "I got killed again."

"By him? By the boy?"

In shame, the husband shook his head.

"By one of the girls?" she asked next.

Again, he shook his head, too ashamed to look his wife in the eye.

"By Eve? You own daughter got so mad that she killed you?"

"Uh-huh. Can I make a new body for myself while you scorch dinner?"

The wife examined the pitchfork. "Hmm. There seems to be enough DNA here." She shooed him off with a wave of her hand. "Hurry up and get that dumb thing cloned. Dinner'll be ready in a few hours."

The husband didn't mind showing glee, despite knowing how much his wife loathed him. It had been a long time he'd had her home-made gravel, and fresh-scorched rotten pumpkin guts.

"Okay, Honey!"

While waiting in the car at the hospital, Eve comforted Tellus. A year in a cave with a man as horrible as her father was sure to have taken its toll on a five-year-old little girl.

"Oh gosh," Eve said, smiling as she picked dirt and snarls from her daughter"s hair. "Now you're six."

Eve was fairly sure Tellus was listening, but it was hard to tell. She had scarcely moved, or even blinked, the entire time while in the car. She seemed to squint from time to time, to refrain from having to blink, keeping her eyes open while adjusting to being outdoors. It was alien in nature, bizarre and odd, even by her unusual standards. Despite it being near midnight, it was as if the darkness she was in was too bright.

"Autumn and I made a cake for you, Princess. You know. For your birthday. Do you remember?"

Eve was sure that Tellus had almost blinked.

"Autumn said that you ate some. It was a lemon cake. It's your favorite. Did you like the candle we put on it for you?"

Tellus scarcely moved as her mother straightened some snarls in her hair.

"Would you like me to make another? Could you help me and Autumn bake a cake?"

Slowly, Tellus opened her mouth, but it wasn't to speak. Sounds came from deep within her, frightful and resonant. The noise she made rattled the car windows, petrifying Eve, yet seemingly so familiar.

"u=TdiG * [IjY…TQd'pu]!" Tellus bellowed like a foghorn. "MiT'De + oiur *[IuWiue UdTosoR!!]"